The Memoirs of Ianto Jones
by Gavvy Wolf-Kidd
Summary: Hi. Kaseykc and I are putting off our other fanfics to bring you a special collaboration to mourn the death of Ianto Jones. We have developed his memoirs, and we hope that this will help you come to terms with the tragedy, as it is helping us.
1. Prologue

_Hi guys. My little sister Kasey (kaseykc) and I are writing this together. This is our way of coming to terms with the tragic death of Ianto Jones. Enjoy._

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**The Memoirs of Ianto Jones**

**Prologue; Jack**

I always knew that I would outlive Ianto. I just didn't think it would be so soon. I thought he would live to see at least thirty... I would have liked the extra five years.

I stand inside Ianto's flat- he left it to me in his Last Will and Testament before he died. Funny, I always thought he was joking when he said he'd written out his Will and left most of his possessions to me. He gave Rhiannon, Mischa and David 80% of his money, and the other 20% went to charity. Such a shame- this place is beautiful. All the times I've been here, it was in the name of love, so the place was always warm and cosy. Now it's cold. No life. It's as dead as I should be.

The hardwood floors echo my footfalls, accenting my solitary stance in this room. The pale walls close around me, breathing with sorrow onto the purple fabric sofa. I remember the first time I stayed here, after the cannibals. Ianto wanted me with him, to keep him safe. I stayed for a couple of weeks, sleeping on that sofa, before I noticed his discomfort, so I offered to stay with him in his room. We just lay there all night, cuddling. I think that's where we really started off as a couple, laying between those silk sheets just talking. I never knew how much I would miss that...

I look over at the sofa, past the tiny kitchenette where I nearly burned the place down with a piece of toast. Yan just laughed, and that day he taught me how to cook. That's what prompted him to buy the TV standing right over by the wall, in front of the glass coffee table. On the coffee table is a small shoe box, closed. I walk over solemnly, and lift the lid. A small slip of yellow paper falls out and onto the table. I pick it up and read;

_To be opened upon my death._

_In this box are the following; my diary, my book of fantasies and my memories._

_Jack, I've left my flat to you, and I expect you to take care of it as though I were still here. You may share my diary and memories with the others, just not the fantasies- they're just for you. We've fulfilled most of them anyway. It was just the last entry I wanted to try out._

I smile to myself, a small tear in my eye. I set the paper down and take a seat on the sofa, pulling the diary and the rest of the paper- there's quite a lot of it- from the box. It's all folded in half, so I unfold it, and I start to read. Immediately, I find myself more drawn to my deceased lover, and my tears begin flowing.


	2. Chapter One

**Author's Notes:**** Hello, this is Kaseykc and my big sis Gavvy Wolf-Kidd! We're writing an interesting fic that's dedicated to *sob, sob* the late Ianto Jones.**

**I hope you enjoy it and think it's worthy of who it's dedicated to. This is... the memoirs of a Welshman...**

**Discl****aimer:**** We do not own Torchwood – if we did we would NEVER have killed Ianto, or made Jack do a runner! The characters are either owned by the BBC – evil Ianto-murders – or to us – the fictional ones at least!**

**Kaseykc**

**The Memoirs of Ianto Jones**

Well, I don't know who's going to be reading this but I doubt it'll be my family. I'll be surprised if anyone I know even reads this since I doubt they think anything of a few thoughts and memories of a dead man.

Actually, if anyone's reading this now it means I'm dead. At one with peace, R.I.P, Dead! It doesn't surprise me so much if I am dead. Death means nothing to me anymore because I'm resigned to it. The life expectancy of my other colleagues wasn't all that great so it's only logical to surmise that mine isn't so special either.

As it is, I should've died a long time ago. But as luck would have it, I didn't. I survived, lived to die another day – dear me, I'm going Bond on myself! I'm no Bond. Bond doesn't die, he's fictional, never existed. I do exist. I'm real. I'm not immortal, and even if I was I don't think I'd be a Bond.

I've led a simple life, up until I turned twenty that is. I never got into fights, wasn't bullied, didn't bully anyone either, had friends and a family I loved regardless of their faults. Then I met them.

Torchwood.

First established by Queen Victoria after she nearly got her head bit off by an alien – which was basically a Werewolf. The Doctor, that same Doctor, saved her life and she showed her thanks by turning him into an enemy of the Empire!

I've never met the man personally, and since I'm dead I doubt I ever will, so I don't know too much about him but, I have read the reports on him – oh the joys of being a Junior Researcher for a year! He's an alien, travels through time, saving worlds, leaving the mess to the natives to clean up. Nothing to show he's an enemy. In fact UNIT – the dear-old United Nations Intelligence Task force - think he's a great guy!

I think I've always known I wouldn't live till thirty - hell I was lucky to get to twenty-five! - but I never would've known that when I died I wouldn't _want_ to die because I'd met someone who just couldn't die, someone I'd have to leave behind one day not by choice but by necessity. It's like that final blow in the gut I got when I was defending a mate of mine in Uni, the one that breaks something important. The one that hurts the most.

I don't know _how_ I died but I hope it was a good death, I'd hate to have died from a splinter – _even if_ it was a poisonous piece of wood from Delcon 4 or whatever. I think I'd like to have gone out like Tosh and Owen, gone out fighting! Not cowering in a corner afraid of the shadows, that's not the death I want. In fact, I don't _want_ to have died at all, but just because I don't _want_ something doesn't mean I won't _get_ it.

I wonder if any of Torchwood survived? Well, Jack obviously but he's immortal so I guess I can't count him. Did Gwen survive or did she die too? Did she ever get to see Rhys' face one last time? Did I get to see Jack's face before I died? Oh God, I hate not knowing the answers but I don't know them now because I'm not dead right now – not now when I'm writing this for whoever to read.

I always said I knew everything, in truth I know _most_ things. If you asked me about Torchwood I could give every piece of information on every single thing that even remotely related to Torchwood without having to look it up. Why? Because that's how my head works, always has done... I can't say always will do because I'm dead and a brain can't function if you're dead – unless you have a resurrection glove and you happen to be a snarky London doctor.

I don't think I ever told anyone about myself did I? In Torchwood One with Lisa she knew almost nothing of my life before I met her. At Torchwood Three Tosh, Owen, Gwen... Jack... they know (knew) only the basics; where I went to school, my dental record, my blood type, my medical history, past relationships – well, only the one with Lisa they know about – and so on. That's all they know (knew).

Jack's entire life is a lie, he doesn't answer questions truthfully if he believes that they will give too much of himself away. I'm no different except I'm a tad better at lying than him, simply because I don't need to flirt or waft some 51st Century pheromones at my questioner. He never had to lie to Yvonne Hartman's face about why the Ghost Shift was delayed, he didn't have to _almost_ face the consequences when he was caught and get away with it by the skin of his teeth did he? No. I did.

I loved Lisa. Always will, but my heart doesn't focus on her anymore. Not after the second death, the second time I caused her death by my own selfishness. I love Jack, I think I always have. Love at first sight and all that, seems that the only type of love I know is love at first sight.

When I first saw Lisa she was walking down the corridor in front of me, talking to a twitchy little man who I watched get his brain ripped out a year and half later, looking like a goddess. Chocolate brown skin that made me shameful of being whiter than the walls around me, lovely dark brown eyes that showed her intelligence; they were so calculatingly warm that I thought there was fire hidden within their depths.

I watched her as she walked on by oblivious to my presence, I was invisible to her. I was meant to be invisible, that was what I was good at and it was required of me to be covert. I didn't see her again for almost a month after I first saw her but I felt like I was high on some sort of drug that made everything better, made my job easier; all the faces, all the names faded away when I thought of her. It was obvious I fell for her, _hard_.

When I finally got to meet her officially, face-to-face, I had to consciously stop myself from getting on my knees and begging her to go out with me. Anyway, I met her whilst Yvonne was standing next me talking about the Ghost Shift – that cursed woman ruined so much all because she was an unstable schizophrenic! - to Lisa and myself. She was asking about the recalibrations that needed to be carried out so as to allow activation, I felt like I was on cloud nine and missed the part where she deemed it a good idea for Lisa to go on my next incursion so as to retrieve the parts we needed from a UNIT base outside the City. When I finally realised what she'd said it was too late and I couldn't get Lisa off the op. To say I was angry would've been an understatement, but I don't let my anger show because that's a weakness.

To cut a long story short I promised myself that I'd do anything to protect Lisa, which included taking a bullet for her, because I couldn't stand to let her get hurt. We infiltrated the UNIT base and acquired what we'd come for without incident. Upon extraction though, that's when it all went to hell.

Out of the six of us, excluding Lisa, who'd entered three were down before we made the perimeter fence. I was focused on getting Lisa out of there intact and my other two team members were in charge of getting the stuff out. Lisa was ahead of us by about five or six-feet so she reached the fence first. She turned to look at us and her beautiful, brown eyes were wide and filled with terror and a small glint of inherent determination. It made me so distracted that she was so afraid that I didn't notice the two soldiers off to the side of us before it was too late.

They fired on us and then there were two of us left; I helped my last member with the stuff and reached the fence where we unceremoniously turned it over. My team member was over in a shot and Lisa was just about to go next when one of the soldiers who'd shot at us only moments ago turned his weapon on her. With only a second or so before she was hit I did the only thing I could think of; I shoved her aside as I aimed my own weapon and got hit as I returned fire on the soldier. His bullet hit me just below my right collarbone and effectively made my right arm useless, my bullet hit him dead-on in between the eyes. A fine shot since he was over twenty-feet away.

I got Lisa over the fence and somehow myself also, we got away from the base and I ended up in the infirmary of Torchwood One for a fortnight.

It was in the infirmary that I told Lisa that I'd loved her since I'd first met her and quite a few other things that I won't _ever_ mention again – well, I mentioned them when Owen had to stitch up a rather nasty slash across my torso from a very kind Weevil but that was a one off. Never have I loved _and_ hated morphine as I did in that infirmary. But, at least she knew I loved her and I was shocked to hear that she'd loved me since she first saw me; which was in the corridor, I wasn't as invisible as I'd thought.

Love at first sight. I loved her, then I lost her.

Love at first sight, I met Jack for the first time. I loved him, every little thing about him I loved. I lost him, every time he died I lost him for a little while and then I went and died for good; losing him forever.

My name is Ianto Jones, I'm a Torchwood Three operative and this, this is my story.

TBC...

**Ianto Jones, you're better than Bond. Hope you liked this little bit. More will be coming soon.**

**Tell us what you thought since we both love reviews, they're good little things.**

**RTD – Bring him BACK! Death be DAMNED! Make him IMMORTAL! Make him like JACK! Please...**


	3. Diary of a sixyearold outcast

**Author: kaseykc**

**Okay. The poem is mine - I wrote it, I own it and I've decided to add it into this...**

**The Memoirs of Ianto Jones**

_My first dairy - 1st August 1990_

_Well, I've never had a diary before so I don't know what I should put in it exactly but from what mam and tad have told me I'm meant to write about my feelings and how my day went._

_I don't see the point in writing too much about the same thing I do every single day so I'll try to write about how I feel and maybe my opinions of things._

_I have lots of opinions about things but I'm only six-years old so I guess no-one really cares about my opinion. They think I'm too young to understand. I don't think age has anything to do with understanding, I understand lots of things. I understand algebraic-equations and they're meant to be really hard to understand. I know the first 200 digits of the number Pi – it starts off with 3.1415926535897._

_I think they just don't want to listen to my opinions, they obviously don't matter or they'd listen to me. They don't care for my opinions so why should I offer them when no-one will listen?_

_I will write them here, in this diary, my first diary. I will write down my opinions of life and everything else until the day I die. And I'll start with this one;_

At the end of the day there's always a chance, that what happened in the past was wrong. That history is supposed to constantly change, to be re-written. It's not like anything is ever set in stone... not for some.

Maybe the history that is taught nowadays is different to that taught originally, before it was 'altered' or 'fixed'. No-one can be certain of the truth because the truth is immaterial.

Sometimes the truth isn't worth the sacrifice.

Sometimes, it's better to believe the lie that lets you sleep at night even if it's last night alive.

And sometimes, the truth just hurts too much to know.

* * * * * *

_I once heard a voice in my ear,_

_It whispered words of heavenly prayer,_

_They made me smile and fill with cheer,_

_As I pondered upon my likeliest heir,_

_I heard the whispers everywhere,_

_Always those same old words,_

_Always whispered on the wind with care,_

_I wondered what the morning birds,_

_Meant when they sang in tune,_

_Twittering like wild flames so fiery,_

_On the longest __day in June,_

_But now at last I understand what was whispered in my ear,_

_When I was a boy who knew no fear..._

I've always like poetry. It's something that can show the complexity of human emotion. It's not one thing or another, it just is. One person can gauge one thing from a certain poem whilst another can interpret it entirely differently. It shows so many things that cannot be explained simply. It uses metaphors and similes, pathetic fallacy and rhyming couplets, to paint a picture of joy, happiness, sorrow, anguish... it's painted by artists of the written word and I love to sit and read of another's view of the world from a time before televisions, a time before there was radio and telephones.

A time where people wrote letters and attended the small Church in their town on a Sunday to thank the lord and to be given blessing from the ordained.

_End of first diary entry- I. Jones_


	4. My Birthday

**Author:**** KaseyKc**

**Author's Note:**** I hope you enjoy this... or just feel VERY sorry for Ianto and want to defend him...**

**Allons-y!**

**Chapter 3 – Birthday battles and Punishment.**

_19__th__ August 1990 – my 7__th__ birthday_

_I always thought birthdays were meant to be a time when everyone was happy because someone had aged by a year. I always thought that I'd enjoy each and every one of my birthday parties. I've had three parties in the past and they were alright, but this year... this year I'm making a promise to myself._

_I AM NEVER CELEBRATING MY BIRTHDAY AGAIN!_

_There are many reasons as to why I'm not going to celebrate my birthday anymore, the first and, in my opinion, most important reason is this;_

_I'm hated by everyone. What is the point of having a party and inviting family and 'friends' when my 'friends' hate me and my family look at me like I'm a freak! Just because I'm smarter than your average seven year old... I didn't ask to be this smart! I just am._

_I don't hate them – mam says 'hate' is too strong a word to use – but I really dislike them... especially my tad!_

_He used to be a tailor when he was younger, before he had me and little Rhia, and now he just seems to hate me. I don't know why but I can guess. I think he hates me because I was the first-born and because my mam had me he had to quit his job because she was injured not long after I was born meaning he had to take care of me. He blames me for losing his job and I didn't do anything! It was that guy in the car who hit mam who caused him to lose his job, not me!_

_I've got to finish writing now.. tad's coming up the stairs... I think he's got the belt..._

_End of entry – I. Jones._

**TMoIJ * * *TMoIJ**

_24__th__ August 1990 – in pain._

_Why? Why? WHY? Do they hate me?! I never did ANYTHING to them! Why does he hit me? Why doesn't she stop him? Why does he lock me up? Why do they hate me this much? What have I ever done to them to deserve this?_

_I've got a long cut on my right lower arm. It hurts a lot but I can't let him see that. If I cry he'll laugh more, he'll hit me more... I don't want to be hit anymore._

_I didn't do anything. It was Rhia but I can't tell them that... they wouldn't believe me anyway._

_I can't even think straight anymore, it hurts too much... I'm going to cry- I know I am... but I can't! He'll hurt me again... please don't cry..._

_Please... no more..._

_Please... I thought you loved me!_

_Tad..._

_NO! NOT THE CLOSET!... PLEASE... NO.. no... no... no..._

**Oh god! To think! I've done that to our dear Ianto!... *hits self* Don't worry... I'll make up for it! Tell us what you ****think if you will please since reviews are constructive criticism and help us writer's in bettering our stories for you guys to read!**


	5. Perchance To Dream

**The Memoirs of Ianto Jones**

_Hi guys. This is Gavvy Wolf-Kidd, and before you bang on at me, I've been busy! I've been working on my Angels of the Valley series- the series I'm hoping to get published- and also Children of Torchwood, not to mention FVA!_

_You have NO idea how sorry I am to kaseykc right now- she's contributed to most of this story, and I just want to take most of the burden off of her right now with something I have promised, and give you all a fantasy. Be warned- this chapter is the reason for the rating!_

_Me and Kaseykc are working on this together, and are kind of putting off some of our other projects, so if you're reading my Fire Valley Academy story, it might not be updated for a few weeks. _

_I'm kind of blank on continuous prose at the moment, so I thought I'd give a fantasy a bash. This is my first smut scene, so you really do have to bear with me on this because I suck at making things smutty, and if you have any advice, please do not hesitate to send me a message..._

_Disclaimer: neither of us own Torchwood. If both or either of us did, then believe me- things would have played out MUCH more differently! For starters, pregnancy or no pregnancy, Gwen would have been the one to be killed. But, I digress._

*** * ***

The Fantasies of Ianto Jones: 

Date: 7/7/2007

I bet I sound like a demented schoolgirl when I say that I've been fantasising about my boss... the very man who killed my... wait. Does she count as a girlfriend if she was 70% robot? It doesn't matter. Ha. If Rhiannon and Johnny saw this notebook, they'd refer me to a psychiatrist, since they think I'm slightly insane already and this may push that thought right over the edge.

I think I may as well start with the first of the fantasies, which wasn't a fantasy at all, but was actually a dream...

_Jack looked at me and smiled one of those heart-melting smiles while taking me in his arms, cradling me against that warm, well-toned body of his. Gently, his teeth scraped against the soft flesh of my neck as he smoothly made his way down to my collarbone. I cupped his head in my hands, and pulled his face upwards so that we could kiss deeply._

_His magical fingers began working the buttons of my jacket, which was soon discarded to the floor along with my waistcoat and his shirt. After just a few moments we were both naked and I was pinned to the floor, with Jack on top of me, kissing his way down my body, uttering a few words and phrases, although all I could make out between his heavy gasps were; "You're so beautiful", "So magnificent" and "I've waited so long for someone like you." I felt him stop at my groin, then after a moment's pause tight, wet heat enclosed around my cock. I gasped at the sensation of Jack's talented tongue dancing around my shaft, and I had to refrain my hips from bucking in rhythm. Just as I was about to cum, Jack pulled away and reached over me. I whimpered in anticipation while he coated himself with the lube._

_Slowly, he inserted one lube-coated finger into my entrance, then a second and a third, stretching me. He pulled the fingers away then opened my legs to as to straddle me. I closed my eyes as I felt him slowly inch his way into me. When I could take no more, I thrusted upwards, so that he became mostly buried within me. The both of us nearly came from the movement alone, but Jack decided it wasn't enough and continued thrusting, causing beautiful friction between the pair of us. _

_Finally we fell into each other's arms at the point of our joint climax, kissing each other deeply._

I'm pretty messed up, aren't I?


	6. Do you know how it feels?

**Author:**** KaseyKc**

**Author Notes:**** Hey people! Now, as Gav said on the last post, I've been writing most of this – thank-you very much for that Gav! I'm writing a thousand things all at once and I still find time to give you this – I am a genius... or brilliant at lea****st :P**

**Anywho, I hope you've enjoyed the fic so far and I do hope you enjoy it further, this'll be the last chapter I write for this for a while so it's up to you Gav to update it with a few of your own chapters since I have far too much stuff still to do f****or school – namely a pointless Geography Study but hey, school's not meant to be fun is it? We'd probably never leave if it was! :P**

**Anywho, enjoy!**

**Allons-y!!**

**Chapter 5 – Do you know what it feels like to love someone?**

_18__th__ April 2005 – in love._

_I met a girl today, where I worked. Correction, she walked right by me whilst I stared at her with my jaw on the floor. She was... she was a goddess! Aphrodite's got nothing on this girls beauty! - mainly because Aphrodite's was a heartless bitch in my opinion, but this girl... she's got the beauty of a goddess and the heart of an Angel._

_She's so sweet and kind, heck she put up with what the guys on my team have nick-named 'Wormtail'! It's funny really, the guy seriously fits the description that J.K's given of the guy in those Harry Potter books! I think she met him on the tube and thought to herself 'Hey! He's an ugly-looking and shifty shit he's description will fit my character perfectly!'_

_Anyway, back to my Angelic Goddess. She's got skin that is so rich and shimmers in the beautiful light of halogen bulbs that makes me believe that it's far too beautiful and delicate – just like the rest of her – to ever be in any of the places I've been, or to be with someone like me._

_I'm nothing compared to her, just a glorified butcher according to my CV but I'm not that. I hate being called that – only I can call myself that since I'm the one I'm insulting! - and I hate killing aliens, the only ones I don't feel bad for are the ones that have ripped a couple of people up or something like that._

_I remember some of the aliens that Yvonne's ordered us to apprehend, their harmless really but they have some interesting abilities and stuff that the scientists want to try and copy and test out so they need live test-subjects. And Yvonne's reasoning is; why use a human as a guinea-pig when you could use an alien?_

_Strangely enough no-one ever points out a couple of flaws with that reasoning such as; alien physiology, human physiology – DIFFERENT!!_

_Anyway, I'm running away from the subject of this entry aren't I?_

_This girl, I don't know her name but I'm going to make a promise to myself right now. I promise to discover my Angelic Goddess' name and to get her to look at me... get her to see my love for her._

_And the best part; when I make a promise, I NEVER break them._

_End of entry – I. Jones._


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